TABOO STANDALONES
Roux Pattel was locked away for life. The Maestro. Silent, deadly, infamous. But years behind bars had made him fade into the shadows. I took his story and twisted it into my dark, seductive fiction. My books made me rich, adored, and beloved. I never imagined my muse would ever walk free. But now he’s out. And the depraved sin I wrote for just my own pages feels too real. If he finds me, if he knows what I have done… He will make my fiction bleed into my own reality.
I’m free. Free to tie up loose ends, and start anew my beautiful chorus line of kills… but now the shadows I tried to hide behind have been stripped away. She took my life and turned it into a watered-down fantasy. Made me into some soft, caring book boyfriend for the mindless masses. She made me soft, easier to swallow. But the man she wrote isn’t me. Not the published ones at least. She has every truth of my life on her pages. My pain. My past. My future. And now… I’m here to make my Little Author’s dark fantasies come alive. Then I’ll be the one to end her story. And this time, it won’t be fictional.
TROPES
TRIGGERS
Toby never really left.
They buried him. They burned the house. They did what they could to erase him, but he came back…just for me.
I feel him every moment. I’m his. Every fiber of my soul screams for him. My brother. My twin.
He tells me I’m beautiful when I ache. He calms the pain when my body trembles beneath him, desperate, ready to surrender to him. Only him
The others don’t understand. They cry. They scream. They try to take me away, but I won’t go. I won’t let them have me, not when Toby fills me with the only thing I crave.
They say I’m sick. That I’m dangerous.
But Toby says I’m perfect. And when he holds me, when his lips burn on mine, when his fingers sink into me, I know he’s right.
His name is all I need. His touch is all I crave.
This body. This skin. This love.
It’s all just borrowed.
TROPES
TRIGGERS
Shiloh:
I went to the Harding Hunt for my girlfriend Xanthy—her warmth, her light, the only tether keeping me from the darkness of my past.
But in the masked chaos of the corn maze, I met her brother.
Carrington.
His golden eyes behind the mask, are ruthless, hunting me like I was the prey.
Every dark corner he forces me into submission.
A heat I hate. A need I can’t control. He makes me question everything I thought I was.
Now every touch, every glance, every moment he steals makes me ache and tremble, torn between the light I cling to and his darkness I can’t escape.
Carrington:
The Harding Hunt isn’t a game.
It’s who we are.
The masks, the chase, the thrill of fear in the maze. it feeds my desire to control, to chase and to own.
But the new shiny toy in my playground this year feeds me more.
He thought being my sisters boyfriend made him untouchable.
He thought he could walk into our world without consequence.
He was wrong.
From the moment I saw him under those floodlights,
I knew I’d strip him down.
Make him run.
Make him mine.
The Hunt never ends, not for me.
And this year, he’s the prize I want.
TROPES
TRIGGERS
Cry Baby
I was raised on a leash.
Not metaphorically or poetically…
An actual fucking collar around my throat, bolted to the concrete beside Mistress’s bed.
I learned early on that obedience tasted better than starvation and blood could be washed away, where broken bones couldn’t be.
At night I was freed from my chains…
sent as her prized dog to hunt for her next bitch.
My job was
Find them, break them, sell them.
Until him…
He thought he was hunting a monster.
He didn’t realize I was leading him straight into my cage.
TROPES
TRIGGERS
